Heir To Darkness, Conqueror Of Brume
by ArkhamInquirer
Summary: Samantha Regina, Seeker of the Crowns, sets her sights on Brume Tower, bringing an ancient ally along to help. Sequel to the fic 'Shulva'.
1. Once More, Into The Unknown

A large iron door. Dark was practically seeping through it. The woman before it, the Witch Regina, had already claimed two crowns, fancying herself a Queen on the rise. First was a smaller title. She ruled the domain of the dark woods on the edges of the Iron King's territory. She had taken it from the Skeleton Lords, and even taken one of their thrones to enjoy.

The second crown was far more impressive. Queen of Shulva. She even wore the plate of the Drakeblood Knights, cloth tied over her mouth, to shield her lungs from the ash. It was fitting, she thought, that she now begun her conquest for the Crown of the Iron King. Ichorous Earth, another casualty on the way to greater power. His kingdom was hers for the taking, by right of combat. The spoils were hers.

Samantha Regina, once a student of the Melfian Magic Academy, now an all-powerful conqueror. She had gone from a nobody, to a nightmare.

"I thought a door like that would be too heavy for a girl like you." A dry, gravelly voice mused.

The Witch spun on her heel, drawing her ornate broadsword, shield at the ready. Instead of a foe, she found the all-too-familiar form of what could possibly be called a friend. It wore armor of bone, and had a thick iron helm bolted to its neck and shoulders, preventing convenient removal.

"_You_. You startled me. Here to offer more cryptic advice? Going to ramble on about the Dark?" Samantha asked, her words dripping with venom.

The armored figure could only laugh.

"No." He stated simply, moving to open the large iron door for his supposed friend.

"Well? What then? Pretending to be altruistic now? I don't even know your name, wretch. I can hardly call you a friend." Regina retorted, only growing angrier in the face of vague comments.

"I don't have a name. I was called The Darkwraith, by some, but that name has little meaning, now." The strong-armed thing replied, finally prying open the doors.

"Darkwraith, hm? Then how about you make yourself useful, and lead me to the Dark." Samantha commanded, crossing her arms.

* * *

Royal Soldiers of Drangleic were dead at the improvised entrance to the tower, some covered in ash, and some more fresh, the curse not granting them the mercy of a second chance.

"Vendrick… What did you _do_?" Samantha asked quietly, inspecting the corpses.

"You're not the first to try and take this land. The Lord of Light's latest foothold has been out of sorts for longer than you've been alive, little darkling. Let's see if you can succeed where the King failed." The Darkwraith remarked, more interested in the crumbling effigy near the site of slaughter.

"And by Lord of Light you mean King Vendrick?" Regina asked.

The Darkwraith laughed again, always so very amused with mortal beings.

"No." He responded, beginning to stride across the massive iron chain, forward to the Brume Tower.

* * *

A frightening effigy, erupted from the ash. Pillars of flame followed, the heat licking at Regina's face.

"What in the name of the Gods is that!?" She shouted.

"Gods have nothing to do with it, girl." The Darkwraith responded, walking into the firestorm.

As the fires faded, Regina spotted her odd and mysterious companion stabbing the statue with a sharp piece of iron, and in a great flash of light, the effigy was no more.

"What did you do?" Samantha asked, her ears still ringing.

"I got rid of it. Take the soul fragment, and the rest of these shards. Before She works up the nerve to try to stop us again." The Darkwraith said, handing a bundle of iron to the Witch.

"Who is 'She'? What do you mean soul fragment?" Regina asked, interrogating her more knowledgeable ally.

"I've seen it before, and felt it, but never like this. She might be fit for leading, if She can pull herself together." The Darkwraith mused, continuing on.

"Soul fragment… In the Effigy? Could someone have… Split their soul?" Samantha asked, more to herself than to her unnerving friend, picking up the piece of undulating darkness that rested on top of the pile of ash and resolving to research the matter more, when she had a spare moment.

* * *

Whispers. They were accusing. Unable to be heard, yet torturous. Nadalia was dearly unhappy that the two had stormed her home, and Samantha could do nothing but listen as her focus slipped and her sword fell into the ash.

The shifting of plates echoed as she fell to her knees, putting her armored gauntlets over her ears.

"Make it stop! _Make it stop_!" She screamed desperately, the words of the dark in her brain.

The Darkwraith narrowly managed to rescue her from an attacking undead, regarding her state as disgraceful. This was an aspiring dark lord? One who so freely manipulated the power of the Dark?

This wouldn't do. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if, when given the opportunity, he allowed the girl to die.

But, for now, he helped her up, put her on her feet, and offered her a drink of her own Estus Flask. There were many trials ahead, and many more chances to die.

* * *

The hot iron rod, the so-called Scorching Scepter, was before the two. Unfortunately for their sense of progress and urgency, Regina was feeling squeamish.

"What if it heats my gloves too much and burns me? Or what if it melts clean through the metal? You can't seriously expect me to just grab it!" She protested.

The Darkwraith sighed, nudging past her and grabbing the scepter himself, pulling it from its slot, finding the heat tolerable.

"Has anyone ever told you the story of Venn and Alken?" The Darkwraith asked, continuing on with the scepter in hand.

"Oh, yes, I've heard it many times. Two star-crossed lovers, separated from one another. A classic, to be sure. I've given thought to writing it down and pub-" Samantha began.

"No. The actual story of Venn and Alken. The kingdoms. They were both founded by the same man, but collapsed. Rivalry, and spite. Two things you humans seem to hold so dear. The Old Iron King was not so old, back then. Nor was he a King, quite yet. He was a frail, uninteresting man, with a frail, uninteresting army." The Darkwraith explained.

"And? What is the point of this story?" Regina asked impatiently.

"He conquered Alken with the help of a powerful ally. He was inspired, and found a great soul. The soul of great Lord. He went from a dull, frail thing to a man worth his weight in… Iron." The creature of Dark continued.

"So?" Samantha asked.

The Darkwraith simply chuckled.

"Just a story. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything." He said.

* * *

While the heat was sweltering, even more so than in the rest of the tower, Samantha Regina could only stare, slack-jawed, at the marvel of machinery powering the various lights and elevators inside of the tower.

"Those massive suits of armor… The lifts… The power… The Iron King was a visionary! If only we could have met, under better circumstances! If only I could have been his Queen!" The Witch exclaimed.

The Darkwraith chuckled, far less impressed after hundreds of years of seeing marvels rise and fall.

"A sentiment shared by the Bride of Ash, no doubt. You heard her name, didn't you? She's like the other three. Dark Queens." He speculated.

"Three? There was the Squalid Queen in my Kingdom of Shulva… Nashandra, of Drangleic? But what of the last?" Samantha asked.

"Four shards of Manus, all seeking to rule in their own way. If only one could absorb all of their souls and become the Father perfected…" The Darkwraith said, ignoring his companion's inquiry.

* * *

"Beast! These dark depths are cursed! Take the Iron, find the thing inside, and destroy it. I command you, as heir apparent of this land." Regina ordered.

The Darkwraith sighed, preparing his greatsword and greatshield, limbering up a bit.

"Never a dull moment, at least." He said, charging into the darkness.

* * *

"I'm aware robbing bodies of their attire may be in bad taste, but it will be our little secret, yes?" Samantha asked, making sure the new outfit was properly affixed, finding it, surprisingly, a bit tight.

"Proper Assassin attire. The garb of Sorceress Assassins, no less. I couldn't have thought up a better outfit for you, my little darkling." The Darkwraith said.

"Your little darkling? I'm aware I am the picture of beauty and charm, but that is a tad romantic, no?" Samantha asked, leaving the mask behind.

"If you are to take the role of the Dark's new Mother, then would it be improper of me to love you?" The Darkwraith retorted.

"Hm. Queen of the Dark. Samantha Regina, Mother of the Abyss. Yes, I think I like the ring to that. I like that very much." The Dark Magus said, nodding in approval.

* * *

"Face me, Bride of Ash! Come out from your effigies! I have left enough of your Soul for you to die in combat!" Samantha shouted, her confidence bolstered by the strength of her companion.

In response, dark gathered, and a mighty armored warrior burst from the ground, a longsword in one hand, and picking up a mighty greatsword with the other.

"A Champion of Dark? Child's play. Come, Beast. Let us allow him to be one, with the Dark." Samantha said.

* * *

Samantha held her shield up, but the mighty, crashing blow splintered the bone in her arm, and sending her rather mundane shield into the ash in pieces. He was poised for the killing blow. A stab, but too slow. Samantha disappeared into a puff of smoke, re-appearing several feet to the side, panting. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and the normally neat bun on the back of her head was mostly undone, bits of her clothes torn, and burnt.

"Beast! Retreat! Her Champion is too strong! We will regroup!" Regina barked, disappearing and re-appearing once more in order to evade another attack.

* * *

"It isn't fair! She's cheating! She's using him as a shield! Appointing some impossible champion as a guard is hardly honorable!" Samantha shouted, enraged and humiliated.

"His name is Raime, you should recognize him from old tales. Stop squirming, my little darkling. Moving now will hurt your arm more than it is already. At least let me bandage you before you go breaking things." The Darkwraith said, applying some rudimentary first-aid to his master.

"Just give me my Estus Flask! Bandages are pointless!" She shouted.

"Not yet. It's time you learned from pain. It will make you stronger. This anger and hatred will give you what you need to defeat him." The impromptu medic advised, having learned from his own torture long ago, at the hands of a mad mage in a forgotten manor.

"And how are we expected to defeat him, hm? How is that even a challenge!? He's too strong! Too fast! My dark magic hardly put a dent in him!" Samantha continued, as angry as ever.

"The Bride is not terribly interested in fairness, my future Queen. She wants us dead, and out of her tower. Her Champion will see her protected, and the undead and effigies will see her will done." The Darkwraith stated, hardly phased by the defeat, and seemingly invincible foe ahead of them.

"No. I will not die, and neither will you. We will defeat him, it can be done. If Gods can bleed, Champions can be killed. I will see him at my feet, and I will have Nadalia watch. Then, she dies. She has made an enemy of me, on this day, and she will know that I am the true heir to darkness when I shove my blade into her throat." Regina growled, the darkness inside of her only growing more eager with the exposure to the challenge.

The Darkwraith grinned in approval. She would make a fine Dark Lord indeed.

* * *

A series of puffs of smoke were left in Regina's trail as she continued to evade and counter attack. She was vicious, lunging forward with her sword before blasting with her chime. Her arm was hurt, but it could still carry a bell, and ring it. Each ringing was followed by a powerful and consuming blast of dark, Nadalia's Champion equally aggressive, lacking a shield himself. It was a long and desperate battle, each combatant alone, and refusing to back down.

He lost.

Regina swung so hard that her Darksword shattered, and the final dark blast she gave was all the energy she had left. All the same, the legend, Raime the Rebel, was dead. Samantha Regina stood triumphant, retrieving his soul and marching forward, out of the kiln and into the throne.

There sat Nadalia, Bride of Ash. Or, at least, what was left of her. A lifeless, soulless husk. She had abandoned her solid form years and years ago.

Yet, on her head sat the crown. A menacing looking hunk of iron, lost by the Old Iron King, and taken from Vendrick.

Now, it belonged to Regina.

She snatched it and placed it on her head. It was a bit large for her thin face, but all the same, she had earned it. She then gave Nadalia what she felt she deserved.

Samantha spat on the husk, frowning deeply.

"You are worthless. You are no true Queen. No worthy Bride. He deserved better. They both did. You are a coward, and you will know my superiority when I find the rest of your soul, and devour it."

* * *

"I have returned. Raime is dead, and Nadalia is fully aware of my intentions, if she was not before." Samantha stated, walking off of the large iron elevator.

"Impressive. I hadn't expected you to come back. With a crown, no less." The Darkwraith replied.

"I have won. I have conquered. Nadalia has lost. I am the Queen of the Iron Keep, and the Harvest Valley. It is all mine, now." Regina said, feeling triumphant, despite the throbbing pain in her arm.

"And are you content with that?" The Darkwraith asked.

"No. I'm not. I want Nadalia's soul. I want to consume it, and find a truer dark. I wish to become Mother of the Abyss." Regina replied, finding new purpose.

"Good. Have your Estus, and we'll find you a new sword. Our work here isn't done." The Darkwraith replied.

Yes, she would make a fine Dark Lord, he thought. A fine Dark Lord indeed.


	2. What Lies Ahead, Only You Can See

The burnt and dark armor of Raime was adjusted to her frame. His longsword was perfect, the power of dark already pulsing through the balanced and slender blade. An older, discarded greatshield bearing the insignia of the raven was hoisted up, the Witch finding the weight agreeable.

Finally, her companion approached, placing the large crown upon her head.

"Now you look fit to rule a kingdom." The Darkwraith remarked, chuckling.

"Not yet. We have one last piece of iron to locate, and one last shard to claim. Nadalia must be terrified." Samantha mused.

"There's something you should see, upstairs. At the top of the tower. A trophy, or maybe, a tribute. It depends on how sentimental we're feeling." The Darkwraith said, chuckling again, darkly.

As the two left, the ash seemed to stop falling, the large room that served as the grave of Raime the Rebel was still, prepared to be forgotten, with the rest of Drangleic, when the time came.

* * *

A war, of somesort. An unseen section of the Iron Keep. The Alonne Knights guarded their true leader, Sir Alonne, a warrior forgotten by time, slain by unknown assailant from a different time. Now, those assailants had arrived, to ensure history continued without a hitch.

The slash of a katana left a deep gash in the Rebel's Greatshield, but Regina's followup with the longsword she had procured from Raime cut the Alonne Knight down to size.

The Darkwraith laughed, enjoying the company of knights trying to stop him. A captain and two subordinates would not do the job. Several sweeps of his greatsword, and the three were dead, the creature of dark no worse for wear.

"Can you even be killed?" Samantha asked, having to shout a bit over the nearby explosions.

"I suspect these Knights won't be the ones to find out!" The Darkwraith shouted back, moving ahead, eager for the next company of swordsmen to test his blade.

* * *

An Eastern Swordsman, seated on the floor. There was an understanding, to how he got to his feet and drew his blade. Without a word, he seemed to be aware of who Samantha and The Darkwraith were. They had bested the Iron King's Knights, and beasts. Now, the two strangers were there to kill him.

Sir Alonne of the East would not go quietly.

"And who is this? Some kind of Eastern savage? Does he even speak English?" Samantha asked.

In response, she was put to the floor in a flash, the swordsman moving faster than she could. Another series of smoke puffs ensured the girl got to safety, but Samantha was panicking. She was already bleeding, and badly. Yet, The Darkwraith was simply watching, hanging back, avoiding the ire of this Eastern Master.

"W-What are you doing, Beast!? Help me! Can you not see that I am injured!?" Regina practically shrieked, fear creeping in.

Another series of slashes and dodges. The warrior hardly left an opening. The weight of the armor and the greatshield became more evident, under duress, leaving the potential Dark Lord feeling more and more sluggish by the second.

"A Dark Lord doesn't banter, in the midst of a battle." The Darkwraith said.

Samantha dodged another flurry of swipes and slashes.

"A Dark Lord does not ponder a point of origin, or judge the merits of a bloodline. All who are human have Dark inside of them. The Abyss consumes without thought, or care. Peace comes to all." The Darkwraith continued.

More slashes, and a few stabs. Samantha couldn't keep this up. He was too fast, and too strong. She could barely find an opening for her own attacks.

"A Dark Lord is wise, and powerful, but not out of greed. The Dark is peace, and love. You are like the Four Kings, of old. You seek the Dark for the sake of power, and have no interest in seeing it spread if it does not affect you." The Darkwraith speculated.

Fear was replaced by anger. Regina's rage brought clarity. A mistake here. An opening there. The previously insurmountable foe had more weaknesses than the girl thought. He was beatable, even in her wounded state. She just needed to hold on, and not get hit again.

"You aren't worthy. The Dark is something greater than you. If you are not willing to give yourself to it, and give up everything you hold dear in order to feed it, you may as well die here." The Darkwraith said.

Each slash of the swordsman's katana was met by a dodge, and then a thrust from Regina's own sword. They engaged in a deadly dance, both motivated by their will to live, despite coming from two different times. Their humanity urged them forward, and unfortunately for the legendary Sir Alonne, the dark inside of Regina was stronger.

"I deserve to die? Is that the situation, you Beast? You Dog!? You would let me die simply because I value myself over some kind of dark crusade!?" Samantha demanded, her mind leaving the original Alonne Knight the second he fell.

The Darkwraith chuckled.

"You're hurt. You won't kill me. Not now." He said, not bothering to even raise his shield in the face of the enraged Witch.

"I will. When I have Her soul. When I've healed, and become stronger." Regina growled.

"I'm counting on it. I hope you're strong enough." The Darkwraith said, leaving with another chuckle, back the way they came.

* * *

Maldron fell to his former pupil, and the undead were trivial. The darkness had no power over Regina, anymore, and the encroaching curse was too slow to matter. Nadalia was cornered, and Samantha took the opportunity to gloat.

The last effigy was in a lone tower, off of the main path of Brume. Linked only by a single chain, Regina briefly mused how infuriated and helpless she would be if someone had simply severed that one link. Perhaps Nadalia hadn't considered that someone would be brave enough to cross.

"Nadalia, Bride of Ash. I must commend your strategy. Splitting your soul into many well guarded places? Sealing your body, and the crown, in a bunker below the tower? It's all very cunning. It's just too bad you are my enemy. We could have made excellent allies." The Witch said, smirking a bit at the statue.

Wordless whispers. Accusatory, yet unintelligible, words. It seemed that even in the end, Nadalia had nothing new to say to the Witch. And so, with a thrust of one more Smelter Wedge, Nadalia was no more, and her soul belonged to Samantha Regina, Seeker of Crowns.

"I win." Samantha said.

Then, without any thought, she consumed the soul, adding it to the dark already within her.

* * *

In the Dark Chasm of the Abyss, a great beast had kidnapped a small maiden. Dusk of Oolacile lied on floor, helpless, as the Primeval Man leered over her. He envied her. He loved her. He couldn't quite articulate why. His humanity had left him, and yet, was a part of him. He had consumed too much. His humanity had gone wild. His form now reflected the true nature of humanity. Something horrific. Something savage. Something insane.

Into the darkness, a challenger came. A stranger, from a strange land, far in the future. Someone who would be spoken of, in old tales. One that would be forgotten, eventually, but their deeds would resonate for thousands of years to come.

Samantha Regina fell to her knees, and threw up. A thick black ichor, signifying that she was becoming something more than human, now. The memories she felt did not belong to her, and yet, she felt as if she was the original owner. She felt like she had been there, facing that warrior.

She had to wonder what would happen once she took the souls of the supposed other two. Nashandra, and an unnamed fourth. Would the story in her mind be complete? Would she know the secrets? Or would she become what that thing was? A beast, insane with want, and wrath?

Perhaps she was, already. Perhaps all humans were. Creatures of want, and wrath. Things of sorrow, and nostalgia.

Perhaps Lucatiel of Mirrah was correct. Perhaps the curse is one they were all born with.

* * *

Back out of the Shrine came Samantha Regina, dressed in dark and warped armor, a large, fearsome looking crown atop her head, encrusted with gems. In one hand she had an ornate looking silver longsword, and in the other, a greatshield bearing the insignia of a raven. Once more she had come from a lost kingdom, and had greeted her companion covered in treasures.

"Vladoff! For once, I'm quite happy to see you!" She chirped, grinning a bit, clearly having been on quite a journey.

Vladoff, who'd chosen to spend his time wisely by tossing bits of rock and iron into the lava in between long periods of napping, a pass-time he excelled at, sat up against a large stone wall. He did not look at all impressed by the Witch's ensemble, and sneered under his dirty hood; beard speckled with grey and clearly unshaven.

"And I am conflicted on if I'm happy to see you. What's that you've got on your head there?" The aging thief asked, a critical edge to his tone of voice.

"Another crown! Can you believe it? I am now Queen of all you see before you. Even that poisonous valley belongs to me now, yes? I suppose that makes me the New Iron Queen, doesn't it?" Samantha asked, motioning wildly with her hands, still grinning away.

"Ah," he said simply, while standing in one long movement that could also be described as uncoiling.

He ambled up and around the freshly proclaimed "Iron Queen" and examined her from the dark recess of his hood. After careful thought, he reached out and nimbly snatched the impressive crown off of Samantha's head, placing it on and over his hood. He grinned.

"By rights of succession, I'm now King. Older than you, wiser too. Better for it, really."

He was always doing this. Antagonizing Samantha. Teasing her. He did love to see her riled up. But this time, the crown on her head was not the true prize. No, no, it was something that could never be taken from her. Something intangible. Something only she could see, and feel. At least, for the time being.

"Wiser? That curse really -has- been eating at your brain, hasn't it? Regardless, the crown is unimportant. There's somewhere else we have to go, before we return to Castle Drangleic. One final crown. Unfinished business." Samantha said, now turning more serious, and thoughtful.

"M'still King," Vladoff stated with the certainty that comes with aging to the point where you know you cannot be wrong.

He wandered back to the rest of his belongings, buckling his straight-sword to his belt with a put upon sigh, "Right, right. Business as usual. Say, if the crown ain't important, why'd we need another?"

"It's the things that are with the crowns. At first I was just in it for the exploration. The history. But now... The things that have taken the crowns, are more important. There are two more. One, in another lost Kingdom, and one I suspect is waiting for us inside of Castle Drangleic. Say, did you happen to see a large man, come by here? Dressed in armor of bone? Wearing something like those ironclads?" Samantha asked.

Vladoff only gave her a quizzical look. It was the only answer she needed.

"I see. Well, regardless, I may need your help, this time. With the crown, I mean." Regina followed up with, eager to get going.

Vladoff considered, scratching at his brow under his hood-crown, which wobbled precariously atop his head.

"Might you? Well, hope it'll be worth my time. We're friends, Regina, but I'm still only escortin' you to and fro if there's a prize to be had. An' you ain't delivered anything for a time," he paused, wetting his lips, "Save for the brief amusement of your own swelling head each time you come back."

"You just got a crown out of it, didn't you? That thing on your head is extremely valuable. Although, if you sell it, I'll kill you. Toss you right in the lava, without a second thought." Regina said, smirking a little.

Vladoff looked to his left, to his right soon after.

"That right? Time we find someone who'd want the thing, we'll be long gone from here by my reckoning. Few crazed enough to venture out to Venn these days." He mused.

"I'd like to leave here, sooner than later. Do you remember that bloody mass of demonic ore? The demon, with the fire sword?" Samantha said, picking up her pack.

"Nay," Vladoff said, lying to be difficult as he assembled the rest of his gear.

It mostly consisted of small knives, a bottle of some ambiguous liquid and a large yet tattered map, all in all, not heavy.

"Oh? Well I'm sure his Brother would love to meet you then. There's more than one! Deep below the ground. There could be a blasted army of those things. Hence why I'd like to leave, before any others come out and decide to repeat history." Samantha said quickly.

She then stopped, pondering something.

"Actually, if one rose from the earth and supposedly slayed the Old Iron King with a single blow, according to the old stories, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if that were to happen once more, with the current king." She mused, a grin creeping across her face.

"Ah, you're mistaking me there, little witch. M'the King in general. Not just meaning this bit of desolate rock we're standing on now," Vladoff said, nodding, sure of his own mad words.

Vladoff set off, leading the way as was his norm; after all, the job was to keep Samantha alive even if she had the prerogative to go off on her own now and then.

Samantha looked back, but only briefly, sighing and following her companion.

"Once more, into the unknown… Only once more…" She said quietly, the dark within her pulsing excitedly.


End file.
